I awake
or so I surmise
to find my vision
veiled in red
Neither shock
nor alarm
overtakes
my manner
of supposing
Red walls
Red hands
Motionless
I remain
suspended
somewhere between
a dream
and disjointed reality
I see anew
the crimson
of our passion
Did I not
hold it
just
moments ago?
Burgundy
yet stains
my reasoning
and imbrues
my winter coat
Red
is the hue
of your song
to me
as it opens
like a rose
into a flourish
of ruby toned
harmonies
Oh how the heart
bleeds each morning
over coffee and
idle chatter
I take myself up from this bed and trod slowly into the parlor,
Collecting my wits and poking at the glowing remnants of the fire
Copyright Tina Jordan, All Rights Reserved
Image Via Pixabay